


a glory hole; a revelation.

by psalms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, First Time Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, Human Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, gay joy, gay revelation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:06:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29014821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psalms/pseuds/psalms
Summary: "i just think cas deserved to get his soul sucked out through his dick once" - me, earlier tonight on tumblrso then i wrote it, tl;dr cas gets his dick sucked by a stranger.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 45





	a glory hole; a revelation.

The worst part of becoming human was how overwhelming the wants were. Hunger, thirst, sleep - they had been expected, somewhat. A body needed sustenance and energy to keep itself going after all, and without grace to fill those voids Jimmy’s - _his_ \- body needed what regular human bodies did. It was expensive, of course, but the kindness of others (individuals, and shelters alike) had mostly helped him along until he’d gotten the job as the Gas-n-Sip and was able to branch out into buying his own supplies.

Peanut butter and jelly was a cheap option, that nourished and was able to be spread out into multiple many meals. It wasn’t his favorite, but then there was so much to try that finding a favorite had to be impossible. PB&J’s were practical, cost effective, and when paired with baby carrots or celery sticks it wasn’t too terrible. Maybe a little too much sugar, but then he had seen what Dean used to put into his body and he was fine.

More than...fine.

See that was the real issue, all the other wants he could rationalize. His body needed things and so it wanted things. The wanting for Dean had been there before, of course, it had been hard to identify originally. A longing that ran deeper than the heavenly intent that willed to him to defend, protect, look after the eldest Winchester. Over time it had become easier to identify, if not to name it, as a kind of love.

As a human, without a trace of grace left even in the tip of his smallest toe, that love had been transformed. How many nights had he awoken sweat drenched and aching. Aching in places that as an angel he’d barely had reason to acknowledge. Now he was faced with it constantly, if not awoken by it in the middle of the night or in the morning. It was almost more annoying than having to go to the bathroom upwards of three times a day.

Being human was disgusting, that was the biggest takeaway he’d had so far about the whole affair. It was unfair - cruel, even - and disgusting. 

Despite the mess of it, once he had gotten over the small disgust, the pleasures that spawned from the wanting were....

How to put it. In all of his grand lifetime so little could compare to that moment before the climax. That crystalline, perfectly synthesized, bliss. Before the waves of contented exhaustion washed over him. The bone deep, satiated feeling never lasted long, however, before the guilt would be upon him. Not two heartbeats later, his breath barely back to normal, and he’d be up. Washing away the evidence of his betrayal.

Wanting Dean was allowed, just barely, but acting upon it? Even in simple visions only he could see? It felt wrong, it felt like if he was ever to see Dean again he wouldn’t be able to look him in the eyes.

But the wanting never lessened, and he’d learned the hard way early on that ignoring the problem didn’t make it go away - it only led to a mess. Which, he reasoned to himself in the shower, is why he had to be proactive, nothing else. It was his duty to maintain his body and care for all of its various wants and needs. 

All of it had been easier before Dean came into the Gas-n-Sip. Green eyes alight with amusement, all easy smiles, not a trace of shame at having kicked Cas out. Why should Dean feel any guilt about that, though? Cas was a bad luck charm, he was wanted by all of heaven, of course he couldn’t stay with Sam and Dean. It had hurt, in an unexpected way, to be greeted with their old teasing camaraderie, but not because of how they had last parted. It was, almost entirely, because of the countless times Cas had envisioned their reunion it had all played out in other, far more satisfying, ways.

Reality, he continued to learn, hardly lived up to his own made up versions of it. 

Still he had attempted to ignore the longings he harbored for Dean. Nora had asked him out on a date, and she wasn’t Dean. She was kind, however, and kindness went a long way when you were scared and alone, and he had been. So afraid, and so alone. All of this was had still been so brand new. Of course it wasn't a date. His expectations needed to be lowered, nothing ever seemed to play out how he expected it would. Instead he had once again been forced to learn the lesson that running away from a problem only left him with a mess to clean up.

After Dean had left him, _again_ , he couldn’t stomach the handful of scenarios he’d conjured up for himself. They made his stomach ache like it had when he’d made himself a grilled cheese only to remember too late that Jimmy had been lactose intolerant. 

A waste of money and a few days of being stuck in the bathroom more often than usual. (Humans, it turned out, were not only disgusting, but exponentially so.) 

One of those hurried trips to the bathroom had caused him to dip into a bar he walked right past most days between work and "home". The appeal of drowning one’s sorrows wasn’t lost upon him, but the cost seemed prohibitive. Especially when he was barely able to afford the longterm motel room he had gotten for himself. Still he’d slipped in after a shift at the Gas-n-Sip and had made his way through the thin afternoon crowd to relieve himself. It had been while he was sat there, bemoaning the human body, when he’d noticed the hole in the wall of the stall. There was duct tape haphazardly slapped around it, and when even after he had finished he lingered a moment. One finger tracing the shape of it, pondering the reason for it. 

A quick google search later that night had answered plenty of questions, and given him an equal amount of new scenarios to consider. Dean unknowingly on one side, Cas unknowingly on the other. The anonymity made some of the shame dissipate. If neither of them knew....

Every subsequent time he had walked past that bar his mind had flitted back to the hole he knew was tucked away in the back. Soon the thoughts of it, of being touched by another consumed the quiet moments of his day. Maybe it would be someone he could imagine was Dean, even if he knew there was no chance it could be. 

What had finally pushed him back into the bar had been an unanswered text. He had reached out, he had tried to check in, but days had passed and Sam still had nod responded. Cas hadn’t had the courage to text Dean, but Sam’s silence hurt more than he could've expected. Cas had gone in for a drink, one drink, but the moment he’d walked in the door a wall of noise had hit him. 

It was so much busier in here than it had been the other day, which just made sense. It was later in the day, it was a weekend, but the realization that it was busy instantly made his mouth run dry. He hazarded a glance at the bar before, acting as calmly and coolly as he possibly could, before putting his head down, and made his way towards the bathroom. There were a couple of men in there already, a few at the urinal, one had his arm braced against the wall for support. A low groan of satisfaction mingling with the splash into the bowl.

The door beside the corner stall was ajar, but the corner stall itself was shut.

Stealing himself, before he could lose the surge of courage that had filled him, he slid into the stall and locked it. Almost immediately a couple of fingers poked through the hole, and Cas watched them for a split before, tentatively, reaching out with his own hand. 

“That’s not what I want, sweetheart,” the voice on the other side was decidedly not Dean's. But then he knew it wouldn’t have been, it never would be Dean. With a shaking hand he popped first the button and then lowered the zipper of his jeans. He shoved both them and his boxers roughly down until they were settled mid-thigh, he wrapped a hand around himself. After a few perfunctory pumps he slipped himself through the hole. 

A glory hole, it wasn’t lost on him the irony of that. An angel using a glory hole, a former emissary of God Himself now laid bare before altar of sin, worshipped at by some godless hedonist.

The groan that ripped out of him the moment the man’s hand gripped him was deep and primordial. No one else - not since Jimmy’s wife, he supposed - had touched the body like this. He couldn’t let himself think about Jimmy, especially not when warm, wet - oh. 

Of course googling had shown him how a glory hole could be used, but knowing and experiencing were too different things. “You like that, sweetheart?” The man’s voice isn’t exactly smug, but something close to it, his hand is working a little more firmly against his length which was at full attention now. “Want more?” 

Cas manages to merely press his hips more flush to the stall, letting out another low sound of encouragement. That’s all it takes, before the man’s mouth is back upon him. Cas can tell the man must do this often, and is almost relieved to be in the hands - in the mouth - of someone who is so gifted at their craft. The man’s tongue lathes against his length, tracing every inch of it, as if wishing to memorize the shape and heft. Before Cas can let himself get bogged down too deep in his own thoughts the man pulls him back into the real world.

Pulls more sounds out of him too by pressing a kiss against leaking head of Cas’ cock and then taking him fully into his mouth again. His tongue teasing against the bottom of Cas's cock as he takes him deeper and deeper. This time it’s the other man who groans, and it reverbs right up and into the base of Cas’ spine. Makes the heat pooled in his stomach become suddenly molten hot. He could feel his muscles tensing, tightening, with that tell-tale sign and then - 

The man backs off, “not yet, want to hear more of those pretty sounds before I taste you.” Shallow, soft, loosely fisted strokes as Cas comes back down from the edge, and then he’s back deep into the man’s mouth. He can feel the muscles of his throat working around him, choking him down, can feel his own toes are curling inside the pair of worn shoes. 

He wants to place a fist into the man’s short, spiky not quite blonde not quite brown not quite ginger hair and press into him with more urgency than the hole allows. He wants to fuck into Dean’s throat without any hinderance and...and...and -

Oh. 

The simple vision of Dean before him, knelt there and worshipful is enough to tip him over the edge. His forearm and face pressing against the stall, breath in tatters, as the man sucks him until he's soft, until it's almost painful. Humming contentedly, as if there was nothing more he wanted than to taste Cas, the man leans away. It takes a moment for Cas to fully come back to himself, and when he does he at least has mind enough to grab some toilet paper to wipe himself off, to flush it down before tucking himself back away. 

There’s the sensation of sticky sweat on his lower back, across the bow of his lip, but none of that wash of shame that usually accompanies him when he cums. There’s just the satisfaction of it. Just the cool, relaxed, calm. 

He pushes out of the stall, a little dazed, only to be pushed aside by someone hurrying into it. Then there's the sound of his zipper and the grunts and groans and sloppy slurping that follow him back out of the bathroom and into the bar. He feels a whole lot better than he thought he would, feels a lot better than he had felt when he’d worried about his date with Nora.

Those nerves had never sat right with him, he had led a garrison of angels to war and he had been nauseous about a date? The cool air of the night greets him like an old friend as he cuts back along the familiar path towards the motel. Maybe the nerves hadn’t been fear, perhaps they had been dread. Maybe the thought of having to kiss, having to touch, _to love_ a woman had been so wrong it had made him lose all sense of himself.

Certainly he’d had none fo those nerves giving himself over to a stranger tonight, letting a man take him into his mouth without hesitation.

He paused, for just a moment, upon a corner, eyes shutting, chin tilting up towards the heavens, “I am gay.” The words taste right on Cas’ tongue, settle warmly on his chest. He stays as he is for a beat longer, before continuing back towards the shabby motel he’s staying at.

For a long time he had just assumed it was Dean. Dean’s soul had been so blindingly beautiful, righteous and noble even while trapped in the darkest pits of Hell, he had of course fallen in love at first touch. The longings he had chalked up as a side effect. A lingering manifestation of those angelic feelings, but now....

He slides into the shower and washes away the grime of the day, mumbling along to the top pop hits that crackle from the radio he’d picked up at a yard sale for a few dollars a couple of weeks ago. (The constant buzz of music and talk show chatter reminds him of a different radio he can’t hear anymore, it helps fill the silence when it becomes overwhelming without the blue bright glow a tv gives off). 

“I’m gay,” he repeats to himself, toweling off his hair that’s starting to get a little shaggy. He looks in the mirror, tilting his head one way and then the next, before smiling at his own reflection.


End file.
